The Leader
by Feuilly
Summary: Take a trip with the Leader and his friends (known to us as Enjolras and the members of The Society Of The Friends Of The ABC) through time.


The first is the Leader. It doesn't matter where he came from, just that he came. He meets his second in a great library. Reading, learning, teaching. The leader watches. After years he decides to approach, he knows the man is sick. He does not know with what. He has seen countless human lives pass him, but he can't let this one go. He talks to him. They agree.

And so the guide is found.

"Maybe they will build to a pyramid like the others, a great tomb," He tries to comfort his dying friend, he's never tried to help someone before.

"I am no king, and I need no tomb. Tombs are for the dead. I will not die, I will be with you."

And he is. His is with him when he draws his last shaking breath. He can feel his own heart stop along with that of his friend. He can't help feeling fear, to know ones heart will stop.

"I'm frightened." He admits.

With the last strength he has, his friend holds his hand. And so The Guide is made.

* * *

They don't find the next until hundreds of years later. At a gypsy camp, dancing and laughing, keeping a string of women very happy. The Guide and the Leader, watch.

"I should hate him." the leader admits, "He's unlike what we wish to be."

The Guide watches the gypsy help a crying boy back to his feet, and forcing a smile onto the child's face.

"Is he really?" The Guide questions.

And so the Centre is found. They follow for years more, never quite entering the camp.

"I have decided," The leader says, "that he shall join us."

"That should be wise, but how is he to die?" The Guide asks.

"Protecting a lover."

"Then maybe we should be that lover."

When they know the time has come, they go to the camp, of course The Centre finds them right away, and saves them from a fight, inviting them into his tent. They spend hours there, laughing and talking, but eventually the time comes where the talk turns serious. The Centre agrees, the Leader and the Guide share a smile, but the peace doesn't last long. Sounds of fighting comes from outside the tent, and The Centre tells them to hide. He runs out in the midst of it though, promptly getting himself stabbed. The Guide and The Leader follow quickly behind.

* * *

Choosing bodies takes longer now. The Centre insists that they must be perfect.

_You must represent yourself well._

He picks them out. They are all about the same age, but look startlingly different. The one he picks for The Leader is shockingly beautiful. The one his picks for the Guide is subdued, but has enough brain to keep up, and the one he picks for himself is incredibly healthy.

"There," he says, "They fit us well."

The Leader tries not to feel flattered, but he can feel his new face flushing in pleasure. They wander for what feels like forever, before finding the next. He is a street performer, and while his words are uneducated, his message is clear. He is fierce, and easily angered, but still one that calls to them.

"I like him." Says the Centre. The guide agrees, and the leader thinks.

They see him for years, performing, perfecting his message. And so the artist is found. His sickness catches them off guard. But staying in and around the streets like he does, they should have known that it was bound to happen. They don't have as much time as they would have liked. The guide and Centre approach him. As weak as he is, he still demands to see The Leader. When he comes into the street, their eyes meet, and with his last breath, he agrees. The bodies are found holding hands. And stayed local legend for years.

* * *

They found others over time, A fighter, a doctor, a friend, the one whom they think will be last is a romantic. He writes plays, shows people the problem with how they see things. He lives longer than the rest, years after they had agreed. The group even performs in his plays sometimes, which causes The Artist great joy. Then one day he just dies. The Leader is troubled as his heart stops, he should have seen this coming, what was off.

"It was me," The Centre says next time they can speak, "I was bored, so I put something in his drink."

This time they see someone who is different, whom the leader should hate. But he is drawn to the form instead. "I don't know why." He admits to the group.

"Maybe you've found love." The Centre teases while the Romantic swoons.

"I don't love that _thing_. Someone who spends their time in the slums like that."

"Ahem." The Artist caughs.

"You didn't choose to. And anyways, what does he have that should draw me to him?"

"Maybe it's because you want to save him?" The Guide suggests.

So the Leader approaches him. And he_ hates_ him so. But really, he knows that he will never be able to leave him. Finally, instead of offering, the other begs. He's read enough to know who they are. The Leader is disgusted,

"Is that the only reason you stay with me?"

"Of course not!" Tears are in the human's eyes, "I just couldn't die knowing I'd never see you again."

So he grants it. But something he can feel that it's wrong this time.

After they die, he knows that he isn't there. Weeping while the Centre chooses bodies for them, he finds himself in a blond French boy. His love isn't there though. He starts his cause in this life again, and soon finds all of his friends again.

* * *

Then one day, while The Centre swooned over his new best friend for this life, the man sneaks into the back. The Leader feels his heart stop, and then he feels it harden, to hate the man in front of him again. But after a drunken ramble with the Fighter, he knows that he doesn't remember. That's what went wrong.

He tries to tell him of what happened, but it just gets dismissed.

"I do love you though." The not quite human says, sounding offended.

"I loved you too." Says the Leader.

* * *

**A/N: I felt like such a steriotype writing this. I'm sitting in Starbucks trying to kill time, and trust me, if you could see me, you might want to hurt me too. Good thing I put my contacts in. Anyways, constructive criticism is wonderful to receive, since I have next to no idea about what I'm doing. **

**Cheers. **


End file.
